


it's not easy for me to belong here (I'm learning)

by tryalittlejoytomorrow



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Getting Together, Healing, Kissing, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Relationship Study, Sharing a Bed, kaz-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-02 02:26:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15787038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryalittlejoytomorrow/pseuds/tryalittlejoytomorrow
Summary: With Inej...there was a lot he couldn't control, a fact that he still wasn't comfortable coming to grips with. But he could control the shaking; he could focus on his breathing, and square his shoulders, and even out his footing so his weight wouldn't crush his leg too bad. He could walk to her and talk to her; touch her sleeve, maybe even slide down his fingers to the pulse in her wrist.Seven months she'd been gone. He could - he had to do this.--Kaz faces feelings as Inej makes her return to Ketterdam.





	it's not easy for me to belong here (I'm learning)

**Author's Note:**

> so I just reread Six of Crows and Crooked Kingdom because I love pain, obviously, and this "idk what i'm writing, might be kanej, definitely kaz-centric" little exploration of Kaz's psyche ended up being this 10k monster, #sorrynotsorry
> 
> Title from Alex Hepburn's 'Reckless', which, with Gnash's 'i hate u i love u' and Jaymes Young's 'Naked', I had on repeat for the whole four days it took to write this story.

Ketterdam was a big city, the Barrel only a small part of it - but Kaz _owned_ it now.

When Pekka Rollins had failed to return to the city - something that Kaz still didn't quite explain to himself - any trace of loyalty to the man had vanished as fast as it took to take a shot; without their leader, the Dime Lions had gone through a civil war of sort, coup attempts and mutinies from within by Rollins's old lieutenants trying to replace him, culling themselves in the process. But as much as Kaz had loathed the man, the truth was that none of his lieutenants lived up to him. The Dime Lions were just another gang now, nothing that the Dregs - _his_ Dregs - couldn't handle. Meanwhile, Jan Van Eck's trial had been short and uneventful; the Merchant Council had been as quick to dismiss him and any involvement with him as the man had been to hide his first wife and convince everyone else that she was dead. Now the Merchant council turned to Wylan, and though he wasn't as savvy in business as his father, everyone agreed that he was doing well with the Van Eck empire - a thought which Kaz concurred.

It still felt weird - duping and conning anybody and everybody in Ketterdam _but_ Wylan Van Eck.

Kaz sighed. He was being sentimental, and sentiment in the Barrel got you killed. Or so it had always been. But Wylan, despite his stupid softness, was his friend; the thought alone elicited another sigh from Kaz. It had been a weary day; his bad leg hurt a lot lately, and he propped it on a low stool, fingers digging in the flesh. _It wouldn't hurt so much if Inej and Jesper were here_ , Kaz couldn't help thinking. Rotty and Anika and Pim and Roeder and all the others were good and as loyal as anyone in the Barrel could be, but they had nothing on his best sharpshooter and the Wraith. Even though business flourished, and Kaz's reign was incontestable, the Dregs without the two of them weren't quite the same.

_He_ wasn't quite the same.

A knock on the door dragged Kaz away from these distracting thoughts. _Good_. Anika stepped into the office, the light shimmy of her hips considerably less exuberant than it used to be. Anika's flirty smile and dazed eyes attracted many a client to the Crow Club and kept them at the table for hours on end; for that only, Kaz allowed the remnant of flirtation she inevitably threw his way. He gave her a glance, and she said, "Wylan Van Eck's here to see you, Boss."

Kaz almost laughed. "Let him in, then." Anika left, and Wylan took her place, standing awkwardly at the threshold. He looked around, his eyes briefly settling on Kaz's extended leg before fleeing again. "What business, Wylan?"

Wylan huffed. "Not everything is about business, Kaz," he said as he fully came in, sitting in the chair facing Kaz's desk. Kaz raised an arched eyebrow, but Wylan just cocked his head to the side in a silent, insubordinate _What?_ The kid had _definitely_ grown a lot of spine over the past year. "I wanted to talk about Jes."

"If you wanted to talk, you could have invited me over for dinner. Your cook's way better than mine."

"You don't have a cook."

"Exactly."

Wylan smiled. "I don't want Jes to think I'm handling his life for him," he started hesitantly. "I just -"

"Yet here you are, speaking on his behalf," Kaz interrupted him, not unkindly. "Jesper's a big boy."

"I know," Wylan said, then sighed. "He's been great with the business and the market and _me_." He ran a hand through his unruly curls, then scratched his neck. "But he's been restless, I can tell. He's a way better mercher than I am for sure, but he's not cut out for that kind of life. It gets too boring for him."

Wylan paused then, and gnawed at his thumb. What was he saying? What was he _asking_? There wasn't much Kaz could do. Jesper was still part of the Dregs; he could come back anytime if his bed was too soft, his life too sweet. Even Wylan helped from time to time, honest merchling by day, demo expert whenever Kaz asked. Jesper could cuddle up with Wylan _and_ be who he'd _always_ been, Kaz's best lieutenant. Kaz's _best_ _friend_ , if Kaz let himself believe in such things.

It wasn't Kaz's place to say or do anything, though. He'd never run out of trick or threat before, but if the Ice Court job had taught him anything, it was that there was no tricking or threatening his friends. He'd let Inej go; he'd paid off her contract, bought her the ship, found her parents. He'd taken the loss of Nina for her sake. He'd _forgiven_ Jesper. He couldn't ask any more of them.

"I wanted him to train with a Fabrikator. I thought it'd be good for him, give him focus. But with everything with the business and my mother and Alys and Colm's farm, we just never seemed to find the time to look for one." Wylan shrugged a shoulder. "I don't know why I came here. I guess...I just wanted to talk it out with someone who would understand."

Kaz pressed his lips in a thin line. In Wylan's mouth, understanding sounded a lot like _caring_. What was it with people like Inej and Wylan always seeking goodness in him?

And yet he did care. It was stupid and reckless, but he did. "Jesper's always been restless," he finally said. "And usually that restlessness went into fights and gambling. He can't stand still. It has nothing to do with your boring, merchling life. Clearly he likes it enough not to go and do stupid things."

Wylan stopped fiddling with the buttons of his coat and cocked an eyebrow. This time, Kaz did laugh. "You laugh now, but next time you come over for dinner I'll ask Alys to entertain."

"You threatening me, Van Eck?" Kaz taunted. "How improper of you. How's the runt?"

Wylan's brow twitched again. " _Willa_ is not a runt." He gave Kaz a look that showed both confusion at the sudden change of conversation and acceptance of the quick dismissal of talks about Jesper. Caring didn't mean that Kaz wanted to go and spend his days _comforting_ Wylan, especially when the merchling was worrying for nothing. "She drools a lot, starts crawling around. Alys came over for lunch the other day with her, they sat with Mother all afternoon. Mother seemed happy."

"Only your mother would find Alys good company," Kaz murmured, reminiscing the hellish hours they'd spent with the young mother-to-be on Black Veil and her singing who could raise the dead. "Her only redeeming quality is that she _didn't_ name the runt _Flumje_ , though this whole Wylan and Willa thing is..."

Kaz didn't finish that thought. What was he doing here, having small talk with Wylan in the middle of the day? He had a gang to lead, an empire to run. He _didn't_ have time, nor any interest, in catching up with Wylan and Jesper's lives.

He glanced at the door, willing Wylan to catch the drift and take his leave. Instead he found Wylan's eyes fixed on an envelope on Kaz's desk that still smelled faintly of the sea. "Is Inej coming home soon?" Wylan asked innocently, with that honest, childlike face that had won the Merchant Council and Jesper over.

Kaz glared at him, and took Wylan's unperturbed gaze back as a full offense. "Don't play with me, merchling. I know damn well that the maid made up the bed in your guestroom with those silky sheets you have shipped from Cofton."

At that, Wylan's mouth dropped open. He at least had the decency to look shocked and the tiniest bit frightened before he recovered. "Fine," he said as he crossed his arms over his chest, "Inej should be there by tomorrow night, and yes, she's staying with us, but...it's not like she _has_ to."

Wylan looked at him with insistence, those blue eyes locked on his. Kaz guessed that this worked with Jesper somehow; he looked back, impassive. He wasn't interested in talking about Inej and his feelings with Wylan Van Eck of all people - nor with anyone else, to be honest, which Kaz rarely was. "Your point, Wylan?"

Wylan didn't back down from the challenge. He rarely ever did anymore, which Kaz had to begrudgingly admire. "My point is, she'd stay here if only you _asked_ ," said Wylan with a straight face, the faintest wobble in his chin showing his nervousness.

Kaz averted his gaze, reached for his cane and folded his knee back, sitting straighter. He opened the bottom drawer of his desk and grabbed the bottle of whiskey and glass he kept in there and poured himself a not-so-healthy dose. "Inej knows her old room is always there," he said, nonchalant, as he emptied his glass in one mouthful. The whiskey burned at his throat, sending a flush to his skin. Wylan gave him a soft smile then, and Kaz hated the way it made him feel, like Wylan knew something he didn't and felt sorry for him. "She _knows_ ," he insisted.

He wanted to snarl at Wylan, to knock the gentleness out of his face, to remind him who he was talking to. Kaz Brekker wasn't a seven year-old girl writing in her diary about her crush. Kaz Brekker wasn't in the business of talking his feelings out. Kaz Brekker -

"It's been seven months, Kaz," Wylan said softly. "After seven months of absence, doesn't she deserve a little more than your crafted indifference?"

"You don't know what you're talking about," Kaz warned. His fingers flexed around his cane. It would only take one move to break Wylan's jaw, or his slender, fragile musician fingers.

Wylan drew his bottom lip in, his gaze lowering to his hands on his lap. "You're right," he said. "I don't. But Inej's my friend, and so _are_ you, and I'm not going to let you intimidate me out of that." His eyes found Kaz's fingers on his cane, then his face. This time, he didn't waver. "You have friends, Kaz Brekker. Deal with it."

Kaz looked him over slowly, then raised his cane and laid it on his knees. "I could also just kill you and dispose of the evidence."

At that, Wylan rolled his eyes. _The kid had gone crazy_ , Kaz thought. A few months in the Barrel and the sweet little merchling thought he could just walk in and make friends with a Barrel boss and roll his eyes to his face. "You could," Wylan agreed with a smile, "but my boyfriend's the best sharpshooter this city has ever known, so..."

His smile turned into a full grin, and Kaz tipped his head back, eyes trained on the ceiling. _Even Inej's Saints would find this embarrassing_. "Next time you want to gush about your boyfriend, you might want to send a letter to Nina. I'm certain she'd love Wylan and Jesper's love chronicles. It'd definitely make for a nice story around the fire at Camp Grisha."

"Nice deflecting." Wylan stood up, smoothed down the lapels of his coat. He looked every bit the typical rich Kerch mercher dressed like that, which made the sight of the two of them together even weirder. Almost as weird as the idea of their friendship; it didn't sound like Kaz had much of a choice in that matter. "See you tomorrow at dinner."

"Wylan." Kaz poured himself another drink and sipped it slowly, enjoying the way Wylan squirmed just a little. "You should know better than to tell me what to do."

"And you should know better than to expect me to drop it," Wylan replied easily, giving him a short nod and taking his leave.

He'd be damned, Kaz thought as he stared after him, and emptied his glass in one last gulp.

 

* * *

 

He was going to be late, and he was going to kill every single one of the Dime Lions for it.

Kaz didn't believe in ludicrous things like luck or coincidences, and he was certain that the Wraith's return had something to do with the idiotic wannabe Dime Lion who'd tried to get the jump on him on his way to the harbor. Tales from the sea reached the land all the time; in half a year Inej had made a name for herself, far from the Dregs - far from him. No matter what; contractually linked to him or not, the rest of Ketterdam and the Barrel's gangs still saw them as a pair, a team. Kaz wouldn't be surprised to reach the berth and find other stupid Dime Lions with Inej's knives stuck at their backs.

He wiped his bloodied gloves on his pants, and pressed his pace on despite the throbbing pain in his leg. He didn't even know if Inej was still at the harbor; she could have gone home with Wylan and Jesper already, thinking he couldn't be bothered to show up. It wasn't like Kaz had the greatest record of proving he _could_ be bothered sometimes. He reckoned he was doing better with that lately, but still - years of taking Inej for granted left a trace.

When he rounded the corner to berth twenty-two and caught a glimpse of her dark braid wiping around her face, Kaz's breath hitched. It surprised him, the catch in his throat; he'd prepared himself to see her all day, all _week_ , really - but the picture of her he'd committed to memory didn't even start to compare with the way the evening sun painted her skin gold. Kaz paused in his tracks, glanced down at the blood stains on his shirt and his ruined gloves. He tucked them in his pocket and buttoned his waist coat, and tried to steady the shaking in his now bare bands.

Everything he had, he'd earned through patience and perseverance and careful precision. It took being in charge of everything, every single aspect of his life. With Inej...there was a lot he couldn't control, a fact that he still wasn't comfortable coming to grips with. But he _could_ control the shaking; he could focus on his breathing, and square his shoulders, and even out his footing so his weight wouldn't crush his leg too bad. He could walk to her and talk to her; touch her sleeve, maybe even slide down his fingers to the pulse in her wrist.

Seven months she'd been gone. He could - he _had_ to do this.

Inej turned around at the sound of his cane. She'd probably known he was there all along, but she didn't turn until he was right there. Her lips curled up in a smile, too bright and hopeful and warm - it gave too much away, a careless, reckless thing in the Barrel. But this wasn't the Slat, or the Crow Club, or any filthy street in West Stave. Maybe such a reckless, _beautiful_ thing could exist here, in this pocket of time and space before reality had to come crashing in.

"Kaz," she spoke his name softly, like she did her prayers to her Saints. Her teeth dug into her bottom lip and her eyes flickered to his bare hands, returning to his with a renewed gleam.

"I'm sorry I'm late."

Her breath caught, her mouth parted in a frozen gasp. Her lips were chapped from the sea air, Kaz noted; if he were anybody else he'd kiss the salt off her mouth. Inej noticed the way his gaze had landed on her mouth and she casted her own eyes down. "I've never heard you apologize before," she murmured. Slowly she let her hand bump against his, just the briefest of touches and it was gone. Kaz instantly missed it.

"I've never really been sorry before," Kaz tried to shrug, even if it was a lie. Inej's hand still hung between them and his heart hammered against his ribcage as he took it in his own. Her skin was soft and warm, nothing like the cold waters; still Kaz sought out her pulse with his thumb, drawing circles against the thrumming of life beneath. He could focus on that, get used to the feel and remember _this_ was real when the drowning sensation eventually came.

Inej drew closer, and he held his breath. It was one thing to touch her _and_ breathe her in. Her free hand came to his stomach, brushing a blood stain with a lone finger. "So I guess you weren't late because you were too busy picking flowers?"

Kaz couldn't help it; he laughed. Inej looked up, startled at the sound, her eyes widening in surprise. "You laugh now," she smiled, filing it as another one of his secrets.

"You're here now." It wasn't an explanation, or a line, or a trick. It was the reckless, scary truth. His throat tightened as the words left his mouth.

Inej's lashes fluttered, and had he ever noticed how long they were? how they shadowed her cheeks? He'd known she was lovely, but he'd never really let himself acknowledge the fact that she was beautiful, her features crafted so delicately, her dark eyes so full of light. He wanted to trace her cheekbone with his finger, twine his hand in her hair. Her braid was coming undone, curls coming free; he could brush his knuckles alongside her neck, the elegant slope of her throat, just mere seconds, not enough to feel the waters wash over, but just enough to _know_ he could do it.

He wished he could keep holding her hand, but his leg was killing him and tonight more than ever, he needed his cane to hold him up. He released her fingers and slowly, he raised his to her face. Inej stilled; he'd seen her do that a hundred times, willing herself to become immobile, then invisible. But she remained right here, she didn't slip away, and when his hand did cup her cheek, pretending his fingers weren't shaking, Kaz felt that jolt of electricity he'd felt all these months ago in a hotel bathroom again, that crack of lightning that shot down his spine, to the tip of his fingers and toes. It was harder to breathe, and he gulped hard around each ragged intake of breath. Inej's eyes were fixed on his, wide and trustful and soft, and he remembered what she'd said then, when he'd felt like he could die just from touching her, from being so close to her. _It isn't easy for me either_. "Is this okay?" he whispered in the minute space between them. When had _he_ gotten so close?

Inej nodded, and leaned into his touch. He'd felt shameful, letting her in this secret, but in that moment it felt like a privilege, Inej letting him in one of hers. "I knew you'd come," she said in a low voice, and it was another throwback to a completely different night, cold and dark and eerie, when she'd doubted he would. _Now_ she knew. He'd righted that wrong.

But it was too much - the rasp in her voice, the softness of her skin, the whisper of her breath fanning against his chest. Kaz pulled his hand away, and gripped his cane with both hands, bracing himself against the onslaught of feeling. He felt dizzy, neither in a good or bad way, but his brow and the nape of his neck were damp, and his fingers ached - from touching her, from wanting to do it again. "The Dime Lions chose today of all days to make a statement," he said. "I'll gut them all."

Inej shook her head softly, then curled her lip under her teeth. "I can't believe I've missed this." She caught his sleeve with two fingers. "Do you know, Wylan thought you'd bailed. He'll give you a piece of his mind about it at dinner."

Kaz laughed again. "You know what? I'm sure he will," he said, then cocked his head to the side, to catch her eye. "But it can wait tomorrow night."

"Kaz..."

_Don't make me say it. Ask me_. "Come back to the Slat with me." _Come home_.

Inej let out a sigh, a small thing that twisted around Kaz's heart. It'd been bold and presumptuous of him to assume. He dipped his chin, unable to look at her. She had the right to say no. She didn't owe him anything. He took a step back.

Her hand shot out, resting lightly against his stomach, palm flat, feather-light. "You idiot," she breathed out, smile never fading. She let go and reached for a small bag, shouldering it, and started walking up the quay. "If not flowers, you're getting me meat pie. And waffles tomorrow," she called over her shoulder.

That, he could do.

 

* * *

 

He was tired and aching, and yet, walking up the streets with Inej, Kaz felt like the king and queen he'd sworn they would be. No one came at them again; still, Kaz wouldn't let the actions of one stupid thug go unpunished. Tomorrow he'd send the Dregs after every single member of the Dime Lions, leaving them with just enough teeth and tongue to tell the tale of what it cost to cross Kaz Brekker.

Tonight, though - tonight was about the quiet way Inej walked at his side even though his limp was considerably slowing her down, how she sometimes slipped in the shadows but he could still feel her there, near. She picked his pocket and he bit into his lip not to smile. He hadn't smiled this much in seven months. The scent of meat pie accompanied her the next time she brushed by him, then he watched as she hopped up and scaled the nearest wall, slipping into the night.

She was perched on his windowsill by the time he made the climb up the stairs to his room, feeding the crows pie crumbs. "Now they'll never leave me alone," he groaned as he dropped into his old desk chair, propping his leg on a crate nearby. If Inej hadn't been here he would have probably slept in his office on the ground floors. He reached for the glass of whiskey she'd poured him, grateful. "Thanks."

Inej chuckled. "Apologies _and_ gratitude, all in one night." She tsked. "You're full of surprises, Brekker."

Maybe someday, he wouldn't be; if he treated her right, if he became the man she wanted him to be. She'd said she didn't want him to be _good_ , but he could make an effort. He could say _thanks_ and _please_ , and _you did good_. He could tell her how much he relied on her, how much he trusted her even though trust was a fickle, cruel thing that got you in too deep, made you care, carved into your being. He could tell Jesper he was proud he'd managed to get himself out of Barrel. He could write to Nina, reach out to her through her grief. Maybe someday, he could.

"Your crows are fat," she laughed. "Someone's been feeding them."

"Not _my_ crows," he groaned again, then sliced the pie in two, handed her a half. Their fingers brushed and he recoiled. He hadn't been prepared. He needed to be more alert, of her, of the way his body reacted to hers. His skin flushed and prickled, and he tried to swallow the bile down without Inej seeing.

Inej, being Inej though, did. Of course she did. But she said nothing, simply took a bite of her pie. That rush of gratitude crested again, but Kaz said nothing. Silence was good; they'd spent most of their time together quiet and silent, so much that he knew all the changes in her breathing - this, at least, had not changed. He downed his whiskey, refilled his glass. "Bad day?" Inej asked, tipping her chin toward his leg.

_I've seen worse_ , he almost said. Instead he opted for the truth. "Try bad week."

Inej worried her lip between her teeth, like she wanted to say something but didn't dare. Kaz knew he wasn't taking good care of his leg; of _himself_ , really. But there was always business to attend, a deal to be struck, a fight to get into. He hadn't sacrificed everything all these years to reach the top of the ladder, only to stumble now that he was _the_ boss of the Barrel. He could rest when he was dead.

Which would probably happen sooner than later, if he kept going at it like that.

Inej brushed her hands together over the roof, the crows fighting amongst themselves for the last crumbs before she closed the window and silently slid down to the floor. She stood near the crate he'd propped his leg on, studying him. The longing for her to come closer hit him like a blade.

He watched her with hooded eyes, the heat coiling deep in the pit of his belly foreign and familiar at the same time. It wasn't like he'd never thought of her like this before, in secret, between the shadows; when they spent late nights holed up in his office hunched over maps and planning heists, whenever he caught a glimpse of her shoulder or the slice of skin at her waist when her shirt rode up. When they were bloody and battered and bruised, in the middle of a fight, when the adrenaline pumping through his veins was stronger than the fear. He'd wanted her close and above and around for far longer than he could properly comprehend, no matter how angry and sick and frightened it made him feel. Kaz wondered what it would feel like, to fit his hand around the slim curve of her hip, to have Inej's light weight pressing down on him. It'd take only three steps for her to reach him, balance a leg over his lap and straddle him. But what would it take him to anchor her there? To free her hair from its braid and watch it tumble down in waves, to sift his fingers through it? To _kiss_ her? What would it take her to let him?

"I can help you," Inej said after a minute, her voice low, nothing but a rasp. "When I was a little girl my mother used to give me these massages, and then I learned and my cousins and I would help each other out after a show."

"Inej..." Kaz shook his head, feeling his heart ready to explode. "I can't -"

"You can keep your pants on." She searched his face, before her eyes settled on his clenched fists, the hard set of his jaw. "Or I can wear your gloves. Your choice. But, Kaz...you need to let me help."

Kaz inhaled sharply; forced himself to exhale slowly through his mouth. He started making a list of all the ways Inej and he had touched before: his hands guiding hers when he'd first taught her to pick locks; Inej's arm and leg pressed against his as they laid on their bellies on a roof during a stakeout; his arm around her at the harbor, his bare fingers twining with her own. She'd bled in his arms, and they'd fought side by side, and -

he would _die_ if he let her touch him like that. He knew it. He wasn't ready, and it had nothing to do with Jordie for once.

He was only flesh and bones, after all, no matter the myth he had built around him. Kaz could pretend all he wanted, that he _didn't_ care, want, or need, but he _did_.

"Tell me," Inej insisted. _Tell me why, tell me how_.

_Tell her_ , a voice hissed in his ear. _Tell her how much you want her_. "I'm trying," Kaz said at last, leaning on his cane to stand up. His knee cracked, and he winced. Maybe he should have let Genya Safin tailor his bad leg once and for all. He looked at Inej then, at the obvious concern in her eyes, the care - Inej cared about people, about _him_ , and it didn't make her any less strong, and she was one of the strongest person he knew. If she could, then so did he. "If I let you touch me I won't want you to stop," he confessed.

Inej's lips parted in surprise, a soft _oh_ escaping. "Kaz." Her voice was low, an almost husky undertone to it. He'd never heard his name spoken like that. He didn't know how to make it happen again. Her cheeks darkened under her blush, but there was a gleam in her eye - she didn't mind it. He felt like dying at the admission, but she relished it.

He wanted to follow the flush with his fingers, see how far it spread. Touch the skin he knew to be warm and burning brighter. He _wanted_.

"When you can touch me, I won't want you to stop, either," she said, soft, her eyes heated. She jerked her head to his bed. "It'll be more comfortable over there."

Kaz nodded. He shrugged off his coat and waist coat, and glanced down at the long-dried blood on his shirt. He wasn't about to tempt fate and get undressed now. _I can wear your gloves_ , she'd said. Kaz couldn't imagine it, her hands on his bare leg, even through the safety of the leather. Besides, the gloves were his shame to bear, not hers. He toed off his shoes and she did the same, and then it felt surreal, settling down on his bed with Inej following. She kneeled at his feet, then slowly, without breaking eye contact, she brought her hands to his calf. With his pants between their skins the touch was fine, nothing he couldn't handle, but - it was still Inej, purposefully touching him, not because they were in danger but because she wanted to take care of him, and that Kaz didn't know if he could handle.

He clenched his fingers around his sheets, curling them into fists at his side. At first Inej simply ran her hands up and down his leg, sometimes digging her fingers in softly, but mostly just getting a feel of it - as if assessing the damage. He shivered when she brushed his thigh, and bit down hard on the inside of his cheek.

"I don't know how you can walk without your cane at all," she simply stated after a while.

He shrugged. "You do what you have to."

She gnawed at her lip, pondering his answer. It was the truth. He wouldn't have been Per Haskell's favorite lieutenant, or become the Dregs' leader, if he'd taken a sick leave to tend to his leg after he broke it. Haskell would have probably killed him himself. He was a cripple, but he'd never let it be a weakness; if anything he'd used it against his enemies time and time again.

Inej started kneading and his muscles screamed in protest instantly. Kaz drew a sharp breath, and his knee back, away from her touch. "You can't keep abusing your body like this. I know what I'm doing. Trust me."

_I do, more than you know_. He trusted her with his secrets, with his shame now. "Talk," he asked roughly as he lowered his leg again. "I can't think straight with you touching me in all that silence."

"Maybe you don't have to be _thinking_ all the time," Inej offered, then resumed working on the knots and cracks of his abused flesh.

He laughed, dry and hoarse. "If I don't I'm going to start imagining all the ways I want to touch you."

"Would that be so bad?"

He closed his eyes. If only she knew the things he wished he was strong enough to do. In the middle of the night, in his dreams, there were no water, no rotting, bloated skin, only the memory of the soft, fragile skin between her shoulder and her neck, the taste of the beaded moisture, her sharp breath fluttering at his ear. There was no thinking, no dreading, no dying. "Your hair," he rasped. "I want to let it down, thread my fingers through it."

"My hair?"

He opened his eyes and found Inej giving him a small, almost shy smile. "Yeah, your hair. It should be free, like you. Once I saw Jesper tugging at your braid and I wanted to do it too, without my gloves. See how it felt for myself, but I..."

Inej pressed a bit harder on a spot behind his knee. It hurt at first, just like when you poked at a bruise to check it was still there; but the more she pressed, the faster the sensation faded, leaving only a surge of relief that spread through the length of his leg. "You _could_ ," she murmured. "I mean, it's - it's the skin, right? It's touching skin that you...that's hard? My hair should be fine." She shook her head a little. "Though I haven't washed it in a week and it's all dry because of the sea air, so I'm not sure even I would want to thread my fingers through it right now."

She focused on his leg again, her brow furrowed in concentration, and Kaz sighed in relief. He knew he had to look like a fool - hell, he probably looked like Wylan or Jesper when they stared at each other.

Inej didn't care that he was defective; she'd offered an alternative instead. He'd kiss her right now if he wasn't so damn terrified that he'd ruin it with his plaguing fear.

Inej rearranged herself on the mattress, bringing his calf over her lap. "I told you it was important to learn how to fall. It's the first thing my father ever taught me, it was the one thing I had to master before he would even let me go to one of my uncle's shows."

"Any Suli wisdom about getting knocked down and getting back up?" he teased. It felt easier, Inej touching him, even if his leg hurt. And it felt good, the easy, almost casual way she went from asking him to spell out his every fantasy about her to sharing her childhood memories. Maybe this - this persistent need, that hunger - didn't have to change who they were at their core.

"If you want to learn more about Suli traditions, you'll have to go to Ravka," Inej clucked her tongue. "My parents hated Ketterdam, but somehow they liked you."

Kaz scoffed. "I'm sure they loved that their daughter was running with a gang."

Inej's hands stilled. "You really think that's all that you are? Another thug?" There was hurt in her voice, and it made no sense. _She_ was the one who'd always been too good for Ketterdam, when Kaz hadn't simply survived the city but _thrived_ on its violence; they both knew it. "My father was grateful that you'd taught me how to use a blade instead of using it on me," she said.

"Inej."

"And my mother prayed for you. That you'd be okay with me gone, without Jesper."

"Inej. Look at me." She did, her features unreadable. They were back on the _Ferolind_ , and everything he was saying was wrong, so what could he say now?

"You're a real idiot, Kaz."

"So I've been told before," he agreed. "Though I'm more used to bastard and son of a bitch."

"Go on."

"I like your parents. They're good people, and there's a shortage of that in this world. And -" He caught her sleeve, let his knuckles brush against hers. "I never thanked you, for your prayers."

"You said you didn't want them." Inej was pouting now, of all things. He'd hurt her feelings somehow. Everything felt harder and worse, when feelings were involved.

"Your Saints couldn't help me."

"That's because you never let anyone help you."

"That's not true," he said. _I'm letting you now. I need you_. "I asked you to help with the DeKappel."

Inej sighed. She wiped at her face, brushing a dark stray curl off her forehead. "It doesn't count, it was a job."

It did count, Kaz thought. Before Inej and Jesper, and after Jordie, he'd never let himself rely on anyone. He wasn't the strongest, so he'd always fought dirty to compensate for his lack of build, but he'd trusted Inej to gather and keep and hide secrets, and Jesper to cover him, be his second. It'd been hard, an admission of his own failings, of his inability to manage everything of his own. It did count.

"You're helping now," he said, and slowly, tentatively, Kaz reached out, curling his fingers around the end of her braid. It was softer than he'd imagined, no matter what Inej said.

"I hardly touched your leg."

"I'm not talking about the leg." He was and he wasn't. Her massage had helped, even if at first it'd seemed to hurt even more. But it was her presence that helped the most. For seven months he'd felt adrift, lost at sea, drowning without her and Jesper. He had had to learn to rely on himself only all over again. Now, though...now Kaz felt stronger around her. He was touching her without his gloves. He could bear her touching, Inej sitting so close to him. He'd touched her cheek.

He was touching her hair. Riding it of the ribbon holding it presented no challenge for his lock-picking fingers, and Inej shook her head, dark waves falling to her shoulders, down her back. His fingers itched to smooth it down. Kaz swallowed thickly, thumbing at a stray curl. She looked like one of her Saints with her hair framing her face, and perhaps Kaz would start praying to them so he could see what it looked like spread on his pillow.

He leaned in, the angle all awkward with their tangled limbs, and Inej tilted her head, her lips parting in a soft sigh. It would be so easy to kiss her then, to capture her mouth with his own. Instead Kaz pressed his face against the side of hers, his nose nuzzling in her hair. Months on the sea had lightened the dark hue, and Inej smelled like sunshine and salt and Kaz expected the rush of nausea to overcome him and he braced himself for it, the hand not stroking her hair fisting the sheets.

But it didn't come. Instead all Kaz felt was the warmth radiating from her body, the thumping of her heart echoing his own, erratic and delirious and _alive_. "Good?" Inej murmured.

Kaz nodded, shutting his eyes and inhaling deeply. Even behind his closed lids all he could see and feel was _Inej_ , floating in and surrounding him. She overwhelmed him, but for once he welcomed the sensation, let himself dive in. He could do this - he wanted to. Wanted to press his lips against her temple, the column of her neck, her mouth, and down and down. So he did. His hand tangled at the back of her head and her skin was even silkier than her hair when he kissed just below her ear.

"Kaz," she let out in a whisper, her own hand reaching out for his, settling on his forearm. Inej tipped her head back and he almost followed, wanting to feel her again, a thrill greater than the fear. The last time he'd done this the waters had won; now it was desire.

Inej untangled herself from him easily, her hand sliding up to curl around his shoulder. Her fingers fluttered near his neck but never touched skin. Inej was leaning into him now, her knee nudged between his thighs, her free hand mirroring her other at his shoulder. She was everywhere and out of reach all at once; her hands pressed onto him but she was poised lightly above him, an acrobat ready to fly. Careful, in control. Like him.

His hands fidgeted at his sides, caught between pushing her away and pulling her in, grabbing at her hips, tangling his hand in her hair, shoving her off. Inej's eyes never left his. "You're the only one I've ever wanted to kiss me," she confessed. This close he could see the golden pecks in her brown eyes, the cracks in her chapped lips, hear the soft lick of her tongue above them.

He remembered her eyes lined with kohl, expensive silk wrapped around her and gold bangles at her feet. She'd looked more like a corpse _then_ than she did now, with scars and shadows. Kaz had never asked her about her time at the Menagerie; first because he hadn't cared, hadn't wanted to, and then because he'd cared too much, would have hunted them all down and killed them for laying a finger, an eye, on her. It was a testament to how strong she was that Inej still wanted these things; that she wanted them with him, when he'd only ever given her the cold shoulder or a glare or a semblance of decency.

"I don't know if I can," he said, gulping hard.

Inej tipped her face down, her hair falling like a curtain of dark waves around her. "Do you _want_ to?" she asked, her breath fanning over his cheek. "Because I've never seen you back away from something you wanted."

But he _had_ , every time he'd looked at her and felt that pang of yearning and walked away. Kaz couldn't argue with her now, though - not when she was this close, not when he'd managed to be with her like this, this close, armor down, for so long.

He raised a hand to her waist, watched his fingers twitch and tremble and finally ball into a fist, barely even touching her even with the barrier of her clothes. It felt too intimate, too much. _I can do this_ , he told himself, gritting his teeth. Inej stayed still as he uncurled his fingers and brushed her side again. Her tunic was tucked in her pants, no risk of exposed skin; Kaz laid his palm there, light but _there_. It was easier to raise his other hand to her back and to her hair after, to stroke her smooth waves, giving himself time to plan his next move.

"You're the only one who knows me like this," he said, then closed the gap between them, pressing his lips to hers in a short, close-mouthed kiss.

It felt suffocating; it wasn't enough. Disgust and terror and desire didn't lace well together; it wasn't working but he wanted more, so Kaz pressed on, counting the seconds. Three seconds and he felt like he was about to throw up, and he backed away, his head hitting the wall behind him too forcefully.

Inej tried to lift herself off him, but he stopped her, the hand at her back sliding down to rest on her waist, too. "No," he rasped, shaking his head. Three seconds, too long and not enough; he wanted to chase the taste of her again, feel her lips moving against his. Now that he knew what it felt like, he could brace himself. He could -

"Sorry," Inej apologized softly, lower than a whisper, her eyes locked on a spot beneath his chin. She was fading.

Kaz shook his head, forced himself to relax. Beneath her hands he knew just how tense he was. "It felt good," he told her, gentle but firm. He hoped she believed him. "It's just...this is how things are for me. It's good until I can't stand it anymore."

Inej nodded. "For me, too." She looked down between them, at his hands on her waist. "I didn't know if I could bear your hands on me until you did." Kaz made to pull away but she shook her head. "I mean, I'm scared, too. But it felt good. It _feels_ good."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He cupped the back of her neck, her hair shielding his hand from her skin, and tipped her face down again. Inej's fingers at his shoulders flexed, and she inhaled sharply. This time when his mouth touched hers Kaz was ready. Her mouth was soft, the salt on her lips reminding him of a summer breeze, not the cold waters and the harbor at night. He clung to that feeling as she gasped and her lips parted, returning the press of his mouth. Kaz shivered but it felt good, the kind of shiver that made him feel alive, more than any money or any heist or any fight had ever made him feel.

He parted his lips too and tentatively let his tongue dart to the outline of her lips, and Inej _moaned_. He almost jumped out at the sound, the feel of it down his body. Suddenly her knee between his legs was too close for comfort, and yet at the same time Kaz wanted nothing more but to press her hips down, feel her body snug against his own, a paradox of terror and desire.

This time it was Inej who pulled back, but the dazed look in her eyes told Kaz he hadn't ruined this. It was another thrill, the sight of Inej with stars in her eyes and the taste of her mouth on his tongue. When she rose to stand he let her, feeling cold without her body against his, yearning for the feel again. Inej ran a hand in her hair, fingers catching in the knots and she laughed. "I didn't expect this," she smiled. Kaz stared at her chest, the way it rose and fell quicker than usual, and Inej caught his gaze. "You certainly don't waste any time."

Kaz felt his cheeks burn. "Inej -"

"Saints, I'm teasing you, Kaz," she laughed again, then grabbed her bag and perched herself on his desk. Plucking a hairbrush from the bag, she started working it through her thick curls. Kaz kept staring at her, mesmerized. Maybe another night he could offer to do this for her. Or he could watch her do this forever. "Kaz," she chided him softly, "you're staring."

"You're beautiful."

Her eyes went wide, dark and bright, stars shining just for him. Inej laughed again, hid her blush behind her hair. Kaz exhaled slowly and ran his hands through his hair, over his neck. He wanted to laugh, too, or scream.

_He'd kissed Inej_.

He'd kissed Inej, and it hadn't felt like the end of the world. Or maybe the end of the world as he knew it, guided and controlled by fear, by the memory of the plague and the fever and Jordie's bloated skin.

Inej started braiding her hair again, then stopped halfway through the plait. "I could - I could let it down, if you like." She bit at her lip, her long, dark lashes covering her cheeks, coy and gorgeous, Kaz wanted to twine his hand in her hair and pull her mouth to his again.

Kaz thought of her hair on his pillow again, nervousness rising like bile in his throat. He hadn't meant for Inej to stay the night in his bed, even though he desperately wanted her to - wanted to know if he could, what she looked like first thing in the morning when the sun filtered in the room. He hadn't meant to just assume, but she was offering, asking, wasn't she?

He looked down at his mattress. The bed was small, not big enough for two, they would inevitably bump and roll and touch each other. But he could deal with that. And if he couldn't...

Inej kept looking at him, waiting for an answer. "It's pretty like that," he said, his voice coming out rougher, a little more desperate. He sounded like a fool, like a goddamn teenage boy, something he'd tried not to be for so long.

"Okay, then," Inej said, then undid her plait, sifting her fingers through her hair. She hopped down his desk and he watched her as she got ready for bed like she belonged in his space, stared up at the ceiling when her hands went to the hem of her shirt. Kaz bit his lip at the rustle of fabric gliding against smooth skin, imagining what it'd feel like to be the one doing it.

She turned and eyed his bloody shirt, and he went through the motions of undressing mechanically. Inej soundlessly plopped down on his bed, resting her weight on her elbows as she watched him. He'd changed in front of her before, never giving it a second thought; he felt like a prey now, with the hungry look in her eyes. Inej had never looked at him like that before. She would avert her gaze, and Kaz had never known if it was out of embarrassment or...

Most of his wounds had scarred wrong, leaving a gruesome patchwork across his body. He'd never had a reason to feel self-conscious about that before. He slipped a clean long-sleeved shirt on, and Inej sighed. "I liked the view," she said regretfully, batting her lashes in a way that was pure seduction.

Kaz's hands stilled at his belt. "You'll be the death of me."

Inej laughed, her head tipping back, her dark hair falling, crow against the snow white of his sheets. He wanted to kiss the exposed skin of her throat, bury his hand in her hair and pin her to the mattress, it would be the best way to go.

He joined her in bed and she stopped, her face growing serious, almost shy as she turned on her side, her cheek resting against her hand. Kaz mirrored her, leaving as much space between them as he could. "Remember that night you thrashed and screamed?" she worried her bottom lip with her teeth.

He did. She'd slipped into his room, tried to rouse him awake and he'd yelled at her. It hadn't been the first time he'd had a nightmare so bad he'd end up screaming himself hoarse, but no one ever came. They all knew better than that. Inej hadn't, and he'd been _horrible_ with her. "Yeah."

"Were you dreaming about your brother?" He gave her a single nod. "Is it - is he the reason why?"

He wasn't ready to talk about Jordie. Kaz didn't believe that talking about what had happened would help, anyway. "Yes," he said, praying she wouldn't push.

Inej reached out then, her fingers stopping short of touching his face, debating whether or not to. Kaz didn't know, either. Her eyes locked with his and she crossed the line, cupped his jaw. "I think you've been punishing yourself for too long."

"If you knew everything, you'd say I haven't enough."

Inej stroked her thumb along his cheekbone. It ranked higher than the slide of her fingers with his but had nothing on the feel of her lips moving against his, Kaz marveled that he had such a range to compare to. Her touch left him feverish, but in a good way. Her hand slid down his torso, and Inej laid her palm flat over his heart. "You're no more a killer than I am."

"That's not technically true."

"Still," Inej said, "it's time you learn to let go."

Kaz opened his mouth to argue, but Inej leaned down, pressed a kiss to the spot above her hand on his chest, and any argument he had died on his tongue.

 

* * *

 

She'd wanted waffles, so he got her waffles. The best in the whole damn city.

Jesper burst into a loud guffaw when he saw them sitting at the huge table in the Van Eck dinner room, Kaz already sipping at his coffee while Inej waited politely for them, sitting with Wylan's mother and engaged into a conversation Kaz had tuned out quickly. Wylan only gave Kaz a knowing look.

"You know, Kaz, dinner is usually served around seven or eight in the _evening_ , not in the morning," Jesper laughed after he'd kissed Inej's cheek and dropped into the chair opposite his.

"We're happy to have you here whenever is what Jes means," Wylan said as he filled his mother's plate then helped himself from the huge platter of waffles the maid had placed in the middle of the table.

Jesper rolled his eyes. "Sure," he said around a mouthful. "That's what I meant. Not, what the hell are you doing in our dinner room drinking our coffee while we're still in bed."

"Waiting for your lazy ass to get up," Kaz shrugged. Inej gave him a pointed look, and he cocked his head, resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I felt bad keeping Inej from her commitment to dinner last night, and for failing to politely decline the invitation myself. Hence, what we're doing in your dinner room at seven thirty in the morning."

"Mmmh." Jesper grinned, his eyes roaming between the two of them as if he were hoping to catch them in the act, hand-holding or something. Kaz folded both hands on top of his cane, and Jesper sighed heavily. "So what brings you home, Inej? Missing this handsome face?"

Inej tucked her chin on top of her hand and sighed prettily. "It sure is a pretty face." She caught the sharp set of Kaz's jaw and added, "and I missed your grumpy, stern face too, Kaz."

Kaz regretted having manners in that moment. If not for Wylan's mother, he would have probably raised a finger to Jesper for the huge, satisfied grin he was giving him now, mouthing the words _grumpy_ and _stern_ over and over.

"Hey now, Kaz, don't be so glum. Everybody knows Wylan's the prettiest anyway," Jesper chuckled. He reached out to squeeze Wylan's fingers, who'd turned a deep shade of pink, and Kaz longed for that, this easy intimacy his friends shared.

Kaz leaned back against his chair, watching them all interact for a while. Both Wylan and Marya seemed entranced by Inej's tales of the sea, even if she'd clearly dialed down the violence of the reality for Marya's sake. Jesper's face glowed at every fight sequence, and Kaz could see it, the restlessness radiating off him that Wylan didn't know how to deal with. Still, Kaz didn't think Jesper was in a hurry to ever go back to the Dregs; Kaz knew he hadn't been seen at any gambling parlor since the Smeet job, and the Jesper sitting opposite him wasn't the same boy he'd known for years. Jesper had cleaned up well, settling in the life of a mercher easily, and not just for the easy money and huge house and the maids; Jesper had committed to helping Wylan and being there for him with the kind of fervor that reminded Kaz of Matthias and his oaths.

The kind of fervor and loyalty Jesper had always shown him, even if Kaz had always been quick to dismiss it as foolishness.

Inej told them about the few weeks spent with her parents, her trip to Ravka, her brief encounter with Nina. Listening to her Kaz felt like she'd been gone for _years_ instead of seven months. Inej had accomplished so much in so little time, seen so much of the world, while he'd remained exactly who he'd been.

Well, without the gloves. Kaz couldn't help staring at his own hands, so he couldn't blame Wylan for his not-so-sneaky glances. He'd promised himself he could go through breakfast without wearing them, so he would, no matter how odd it felt.

Soon all the waffles were gone, both Jesper's and Inej's bellies sporting a small bump after, and Wylan escorted his mother to her painting room. When he came back he gestured for them to follow him to his office.

If he hadn't been in Jan Van Eck's office before, Kaz would have never recognized it, not with the way Wylan had reorganized everything and thrown all remnants of his father away. He took a seat at his desk while Jesper leaned against the threshold of the door and Inej curled in an armchair. Kaz sat beside her.

"So I figured you didn't come home just for Handsome and Tall and Dark," Wylan said to Inej. "How can we help?"

" _I'm_ Handsome, right?" Jesper fake-whispered.

_Ghezen_ , he did miss the fool, Kaz realized.

He watched Inej carefully. Late last night, once they'd gotten over the awkwardness and giddiness of _kissing_ and _sharing a bed_ , she'd told him about all the horrors she'd seen out in the seas, about the slavers she'd hunted down and killed, about the things they'd said and done to save their own lives. Some had promised her gold and treasures beyond her wildest imagination, and those she'd killed slowly.

He'd understood. For her, he'd done the same, hanging a man by his ankles and letting him fall. For her, he would do it all over again.

"I want to burn the Menagerie down."

Jesper's grin faded instantly. Wylan's brow furrowed. None of them objected: Jesper, because he knew what Inej had gone through there; Wylan, because he cared about Inej, and took her statement as a request, a favor a friend needed from him.

Jesper walked over to the desk, leaning his hip against it. "I can shoot Tante Heleen right between the eyes with my own eyes closed. Just say the word."

Inej shook her head. "She doesn't deserve that mercy." She took a deep breath, and Kaz's hand reached out to her on its own volition, grazing her fingers before retreating quickly. Inej gave him a shaky smile. "She's not just trading in slaves now, she's _making orders_. We sank a ship full of Kaelish girls, some no older than twelve. The captain told us they were for her, that she'd been specific about what she wanted."

"Ghezen," Jesper swore softly. "That's illegal. If the Merchant Council knew that, she'd be up for the gallows."

Wylan's face had turned pale and greenish. For all his father's cruelty, and the months he'd spent in the Barrel, Wylan knew nothing of the filth and the true horror of the world. "Without proof, they won't do a thing about it," he said.

_Inej should be proof enough_ , Kaz wanted to snarl, but Wylan was right. Inej had told him so himself the night before, and it was that sickening truth that had led her to make such a drastic decision. Months ago she'd asked him to help her on her quest to fighting injustice and evil, and there was no one who had it coming more than Heleen Van Houden. "Which is why we have to do something ourselves," Inej said.

Jesper sat on the edge of Wylan's desk, his head tilted to the side as he stared at Inej. "Is that...is that scheming face?" He looked between Kaz and Wylan, shocked. "So everybody just pulls scheming face now, that's a thing?" He threw up his hands. "Okay, fine. We're all ears, Boss."

Inej turned to him, gratitude gleaming in her eyes. "Actually, I can just pull the face. Kaz's the one who planned everything."

Wordlessly Wylan opened his desk drawer and got sheets of paper and ink, drawing and scraping notes as Kaz talked. They would need to evacuate all of Tante Heleen's girls (Inej's number one condition, indisputable), find them a place to stay, a way home or a job (one of the Dregs' safehouses, Inej's ship, either with a good house or with the Dregs), and some more of the chemical weevil Wylan had concocted.

"So what do you say?" Kaz asked. "One more run with the Dregs, for good old time's sake?"

 

* * *

 

Inej stayed another week after the fire, including a whole night curled up in Kaz's bed, crying. He hadn't known what to make of her tears at first. She was relieved and grieving all at once, and he supposed it felt cathartic, coming undone like this. But she'd been small and fragile in a way he didn't know how to handle, until the need to be there for her had overcome the fear of being too close. He'd held her awkwardly, but he hadn't let go.

Jesper and Wylan gave them privacy at the harbor, after they'd hugged Inej and made her promise to keep writing letters and come back soon. Kaz slid his ungloved hand in hers, holding tight. The wind was making stray wisps of curls fly, and he reached for her face, tucking a lost tendril behind her ear. His fingers stayed just a few seconds, and it felt good, like a promise.

Inej squeezed his hand and rose on her tiptoes, her lips pressing against his cheek. Kaz gulped hard as he counted the seconds, _four, five_ , then turned his head, catching her mouth with his, a soft, short peck before he was pulling away. "Until next time," he murmured.

"Until next time," Inej echoed before she let go of his hand and made to turn.

Kaz watched her leave, until she was a blur and all he could see was her dark braid.

 

* * *

 

_the end_

 

 


End file.
